A Girl Who's Bad At Metaphors
by Anna's Awkward You're Gorgeous
Summary: Modern AU: Sequel to Find Your Way Home. After 10 years of separation from her sister, Anna returns to her hometown to reunite with her old friends and restore old bonds before she starts college in the fall. On top of her burdened childhood, she harbors a secret, and a secret depression that she fears could end her life. Warnings for self-harm and violence.
1. Happiness

AN: I wasn't planning on making a sequel to FYWH at all, but this story was still lingering in my mind too much to let it go. Hope y'all enjoy!

It was the same schedule day in and day out. Surely, by now, she should have been used to it. Wake up, eat breakfast with her sister, trail with her to work, usually, maybe see Kristoff later in the day, visit with her sister again, eat sleep. Not too different from the routine she'd grown accustomed to in her few short years in Elsa's custody. It was funny, now, that she was legally an adult yet felt so comfortable with the same routine that had grown to be dull and predictable as a child. She'd almost forgotten how much she missed it. How much she liked it, or rather, how much she needed it. Even though she'd be leaving in behind in just a few short weeks, she knew it would be back here waiting for her on vacations and summer breaks, and the thought that some form of stability was back home for her.

It was almost enough to make up for those subsequent ten years of her life filled with erratic living and fear, the life she was leading now. It was a success story in and of itself that she'd made it out of her parent's house alive - let alone the fact that she was going to a top college in the fall, reuniting with her sister, and her once-best friend, among other people. It seemed almost too good to be true, this happiness that she'd found.

It was probably why, in these moments, alone, at night, in her room, when she was most vulnerable, that this happiness escaped her, somehow. Maybe it was through her tears, or through the very visible pores on her face, or even through her shaking, jagged breaths that seemed to rock her entire body, maybe even the whole room, maybe even the whole world.

Elsa's house was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Way better than the apartment they'd been living in years before. She had everything that she wanted and needed - down to the television she never used and the car with only five radio stations, all country. It was a nice neighborhood, but too secluded, too quiet, too lonely. Anna supposed that was what her sister liked, after all, Elsa had always been one for her privacy, and liked quiet more than anything. But it was foreign to Anna. So much so that her mind played tricks on her to take her from the security she felt and back to the life she lead not that long ago.

Cricket cries were replaced with drunken screams, the few motors of neighbors retuning from their late night shifts superseded by smashing bottles and slamming doors. She almost expected her father to barge in, (he hadn't allowed locks), yelling and raving about something, only for his frustrations to be tattooed across Anna's pale flesh in the form of bruises, cuts and scrapes.

She didn't intend to bring any of this baggage with her. Just the opposite, in fact. She planned on leaving that life, and everything associated with it, behind her, never to be seen or heard from again.

But she couldn't help it. Even here, in the solace of her sister's house - her sister, who would never let any harm come to Anna again - wrapped in her ice vanilla scented blankets, 200 pages into her favorite novel and ink stains under her finger nails from hours of trying to write out her frustrations, it followed her, determined to claim its place in her life, no matter what harm came to her in the process.

Anna sighed, turning over, facing away from the window. She wished she'd brought her radio with her. In the years since her father was incarcerated, and she was allowed to make noise, she'd taken to sleeping with the radio on, turned to the station that played romance songs all night long. It was always soothing to her, as it took her mind out of the house she was trapped in and off into a future. What kind of future, she didn't know, but she only could hope that it would be a place full of love, which she so desperately needed.

It kept noise circulating in her room, at the very least. The quiet was dangerous. Deadly even. It gave her too much time to think, which, at any other point of the day, would have been a creative outlet that she desperately wanted and needed. But at night, it was treacherous, like climbing down rickety stairs or driving down a slick road in the winter.

Most of all, the quiet had this way of wrapping itself around her throat, crawling into her veins, leaving no escape from her body except to carve lines into her flesh, slowly creeping out, draining blood and taking any joy in her that she needed to keep herself going during the day.

Her hand dropped below the cover, and she took deep, heavy breaths, trying to block out how much the pain actually hurt.

The quiet and the dark had a way of taking her happiness, and it was only in the afterglow that she not only felt, but saw it escape from her body, in the vertical lines marking her wrists. The quiet didn't care about the mark it left on her, or the burden of explaining her choice of long sleeves in the summer, or even the physical burden it put on her body, as feigning happiness was getting to be exhausting.

All it cared about was itself. That, and never letting her forget where she came from.


	2. No Direct Threat

"Anna," Elsa said, coming into her room without knocking, "It's after twelve. You're not staying in bed all day."

The younger girl's eyes fluttered open, barely registering her older sister's presence, let alone what she said.

"Five more minutes," Anna muttered, curling up against her pillow, blowing a few loose strands of hair away from her face.

"I don't think so," Elsa said, opening up the curtains, letting a sharp ray of sunshine break through the grayness of the room, "When you're in the dorm, you can do what you want. While you're staying with me, you're not wasting the day away in bed."

Anna smiled to herself, finding it funny that her sister's maternal instincts still kicking in so many years later, repeating the same things she used to say to Anna when she was a child.

"You never did let me sleep in. Guess I shouldn't have expected anything else now, huh?" Anna said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Elsa shook her head, her fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee as she crossed the room, "Probably not."

"You were always pretty predictable," Anna said.

"As are you," Elsa said, looking at her sister, "Besides. If I weren't around, you'd sleep the entire day away. Even when you were supposed to be up and dressed an hour ago."

"What?" Anna gasped, jumping out of bed, "It's that late already?"

"It was that late about thirty minutes ago," Elsa said, bringing her lips to the mug, "I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't sitting in our driveway, impatiently waiting for you."

Anna let the "our driveway" slip over her head, still getting used to the implications that this was her home as well as Elsa's. It still didn't feel right, no matter how much the older girl insisted.

"You could have woken me up a little sooner," the younger girl said, running out of her bedroom and into the bathroom.

She heard her sister's voice call from the bedroom, "I tried. Three times. Each time you rolled over and fell back asleep."

Anna vaguely remembered that, although she could have sworn it was a dream.

The doorbell rang just as she faced the mirror, only to find that her hair was sticking out in every which direction, as it always had, and still did, in the morning.

"Elsa," Anna said as she heard her sister's footsteps leave her bedroom, "If that's Kristoff, whatever you do, do not let him in this house until I don't look like I just rolled out of bed."

"You did just roll out of bed," Elsa quipped.

Anna went to running the brush through her hair as fast as she could, stopping only when the sleeve of her nightshirt fell down to reveal the flaming track marks of the agony she faced last night. She pulled them back up, not wanting to think about that now, and lamenting the fact that she'd probably have to wear a sweater today to hide them. She also didn't want to think about how she'd need to stop eventually, at least long enough for the older scars to heal. Her mother could not have cared less what she did or wore; Anna knew enough to know that Elsa would eventually question her, or worse, find out. But Anna knew she already felt guilty enough about everything, and this would just compound the anxiety that the older girl inevitably felt.

"Just another way you've manage to drag other people into your problems, Anderson," Anna scolded to her reflection, "Doesn't seem like that's a habit that's going away either."

As she fought the tangles in her hair, she heard a voice carry over from the front door.

"…Sorry she wasn't ready sooner. Getting her up sometimes is a bit of a hassle."

"If it's anything like she did at our sleepovers as children, I can only imagine and sympathize greatly."

"Shit," Anna said, dragging the brush over her head faster, only causing it to catch and sting. She should have known that Elsa wouldn't leave him waiting outside. After all, Anna thought to herself, she'd tried to wake her up before, allegedly.

"Ow!" she yelled when it got caught in a particularly tough knot, not budging either.

"Still with the bed head feisty pants?"

Anna chuckled, not turning to face the man standing in the bathroom doorway.

"Just because my sister let you in the house doesn't mean you get to gawk at me in all my morning glory, you know."

Kristoff sighed, leaning against the door frame.

"Morning? Anna, it's one in the afternoon."

"Well, it's morning for me," she said, trying to pick the brush out of the tangled mess.

"I don't know how you're going to do it in the fall," he said, "Doesn't one of your classes start at nine?"

She sighed, looking at him with a sheepish grin, "Do you think they'll be flexible on that?"

He grinned, "Doubt it." When he saw her struggling, he walked into the bathroom, standing behind her. "Here," he said, "Let me help you out there."

"Thanks," Anna said, gritting her teeth against the pull of her hair, "I, uh, can't exactly see to pull it out myself."

"I guess it's lucky for you that I'm here then."

"Yeah," Anna said, feeling her body flush at his touch, "Yeah, I am."

This 'feeling,' or whatever it was that she got whenever Kristoff made contact with her was strange. Not something she was used to, as her sordid childhood made any feelings of affection towards anyone few and far between.

In spite of the fact that they'd spent almost every day together, Anna couldn't tell how he felt about her. After all, she wasn't the same girl she'd been ten years ago. And he certainly was not the same boy. Or a boy, at all. Puberty had certainly been good to him, which only furthered the insecurities that fueled Anna's self loathing, for lack of better terms. She didn't consider herself particularly pretty - too lanky, too freckled, too thin. And now, standing here beside his beautiful self with a comb stuck in her tumbleweed of hair and pajamas that were too big and probably had blood stains on them somewhere was enough to send these feelings into overdrive way too early in the day.

"Here," he said, handing the brush back to her, "There was a few clumps of hair in there but I think you'd rather have them in the trash than in your hand."

"Yeah," she said shakily, "Thanks. Um…can you give me a few minutes to get dressed."

If he sensed the nervousness in her voice, he didn't mention it.

"No problem," he said, walking away, "But if you get back into bed, we're going to have a problem."

The door shut behind him and she lowered herself onto the toilet seat, trying to catch her breath. She didn't have time for this right now, already under the scrutiny of waking up so late.

She reached into one of the drawers, pulling out the first aid kid she usually used to clean herself up after a night of emotional turmoil. She had the routine down cold; anti-bacterial wipe, antiseptic spray, bandaid, gauze. She carefully checked her top for blood stains along the wrist line before disposing of it into the hamper along with her bottoms, throwing on her bathrobe and running back into her room.

The next part was easy - long sleeved shirt, tights over her legs to hide the older scars, bracelets to make sure the shirt didn't ride up during the day and throwing extra bandaids into her purse on the off-chance these ones leaked. She wasn't used to going out so soon after self-harming, and didn't know if they would re-bleed at any point. Her and Kristoff were just going to get lunch and maybe shop, but she could never be too careful.

"I'm ready!" she called, putting on her cheerful voice and running into the living room, tripping over herself as she forced her feet into the too-small flats she wore every day. (Her sister had insisted on taking her shopping upon arrival, but Anna repeatedly declined. She felt bad enough living off her sister until school started).

"It's about time," Kristoff said, "I was starting to think that we'd make the dinner shift."

"Very funny," Anna said, grabbing her keys and throwing them into her purse.

"You two be careful now," Elsa said, following them to the door, her protective voice coming out, "Anna, wear your seatbelt. All the way there this time."

"Fiiiiine," Anna said, already half-way out the door.

"And Anna, don't forget to…"

"To check in with you when we get there, to look both ways before crossing the street, not talk to strangers, hold Kristoff's hand so I don't get lost…"

"Alright smart allelic," the older girl teased, jokingly tugging at her sister's ear, "You behave, you hear me."

"Yes Miss Hannigan," Anna said, pulling away from her sister, "I'll be good, I promise."

"And I'll make sure of it," Kristoff chimed in.

"Alright, have fun," Elsa said as Anna closed the door, running to the car. She knew Elsa would be watching from the window until they pulled away, even more protective (Anna termed it 'smothering') when she left the house and didn't take Elsa with her. She appreciated the gesture, and knew why she did what she did, however tantalizing it had come to be. It was just another reminder, albiet indirect, of how precarious Anna's safety had been in the past, and how Elsa still feared for it, even when there was no direct threat.

But again, she couldn't let her mind go there. She was going to enjoy this afternoon, even if it killed her.

"I call shot gun!"

"Anna, you're the only other person in the car."


End file.
